Fetch
by ScapeArtist
Summary: Emma is meeting Killian aboard the Jolly Roger to help him settle in, and they are interrupted by a guest.


**A/N: This little fluffy domestic CS fic is a gift for my friend, and insanely talented artist scribblecat27. We both love dogs, so there's a bit of that here, too. **

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The _Jolly Roger_ had only been safely moored in Storybrooke for a few hours when Killian moved out of Granny's and back into his quarters aboard ship. He'd already turned away Smee and the remainder of his former crew, telling them his ship was no longer in the pirate business, and to go make something of themselves in this world. This information was less than pleasing to most of them, but he didn't care. The _Jolly Roger_ was his, and there would be no further discussion about it. Captain's last order.

Blackbeard may not have had much respect for Killian, but, like any captain worth his salt, he did for his ship. Actual damage was nonexistent, but the lingering stench of the bastard was still clinging to the wood and sails, and he wanted it gone. Killian had spent the last couple of days cleaning and reorganizing, making it his own again, and checking to make sure nothing of value was missing.

Aside from removing all traces another person had captained the _Jolly Roger_, he wanted to make his home welcoming for Emma and perhaps discuss the possibility of her moving here, with him. Henry could have the crew's quarters to himself when he wasn't with Regina, and the three of them could have a place of their own. A happy ending, indeed.

"Ahoy, Captain! Permission to come board?" Emma called out.

Killian smiled at her use of ship etiquette, and climbed up the ladder to the freshly swabbed deck. He'd just finished washing up and changing out of his sweaty shirt after a full day of cleaning.

"Consider this a standing invitation, love," he said.

He punctuated the gesture with a kiss that he hoped expressed how he'd missed her company that day.

She took his hand, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, then drew closer for a longer, softer, kiss filled with a promise of more. He reached around to tug her flush against him, and was met with a crinkling sound when his hand brushed over something she was apparently trying to hide from him.

Pulling back, Emma grinned at him and showed what she'd been concealing. "Yo, ho, ho, it's a bottle of rum!" she said. "I thought a… uh… ship warming gift was in order."

Killian pulled the bottle from the brown bag, admiring the rich shade of amber, and kissed Emma's cheek. "You know me well, love. Thank you."

He tucked the bottle under his arm and motioned to Emma to follow him back down below.

"Unfortunately drinks will have to wait a bit while we finish getting the ship squared away. Drinking on duty is bad form, you know."

Emma snorted behind him and he was sure he heard her mumble, "Like _that's_ ever stopped you before."

He ignored her comment, even though he could feel his lips tug up into a smile. Thinking about their time together in Neverland, she wasn't entirely wrong.

Glancing back, he said, "I've gotten a fair amount done, so it shouldn't take long to wrap things up."

He was down the ladder and in the galley when Emma caught up with him. "Last time we were aboard, did you acquaint yourself with the galley?" he asked as he put the rum in a compartment along with a few other unmarked bottles.

She looked around at the confined space with its near empty shelves, small cabinets, and a compact coal burning cook stove with an ancient and battered copper kettle sitting on the scuffed surface. There were nets hanging from the rafters with onions, potatoes, and some citrus fruit still in them. Separating the galley from the stairs was a narrow counter area for prepping food.

"Uh, I would have remembered this," she said.

She squeezed past Killian, their bodies grazing each other, more from lack of space, than the usual overwhelming need to touch. Not that he was complaining. Emma's expression landed somewhere between awe and consternation as she investigated the tiny space.

"This is even smaller than anything I ever had, and I lived in some pretty cramped places. How did anyone actually _cook_ in here? I can't even turn around without hitting something."

Killian shrugged. "We managed. No one ever starved to death."

"Certainly not Smee," Emma muttered, distracted by the stack of pewter plates and bowls on one shelf. "I feel like I'm on a school field trip."

Killian had no idea what she meant by that, so he let her comment pass. "Did you bring the provisions I asked for?" he asked.

Straightening up carefully as to not bang her head on anything, Emma smiled. "Oh! Yeah! I left them on deck. Probably should have grabbed them before," she admitted. Taking advantage of the close quarters, Emma stepped into Killian's space and tugged at his necklace. "Someone was just a _little_ too distracting though."

Emma rose up on her toes as Killian leaned down for a kiss. "Mmmm… now who's being distracting. Let's get everything put away so I can… reacquaint you with the captain's quarters," Killian said.

"Aye, aye, Captain," she said with a smart salute.

Letting Emma lead the way, Killian followed her back up the ladder and almost crashed into her when she stopped short, her head just clearing the hatch opening.

"Uh, Killian, we have company," she said.

"Friend or foe?"

"Dog?"

Killian chuckled and looked up past Emma at the slowly darkening sky. "Oh, must be dinner time. Be right back. He won't hurt you. Go on up, love. He's a friendly beast, I promise."

Emma looked back at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Really. Just give me a minute to find something and I'll be right up."

Killian backed down and stepped into the galley, grabbing a few items he knew the dog would eat, then made his way back up on deck. Emma stood there, already petting the floppy-eared, black dog, whose strong tail swished over the deck in a wide arc. When he saw Killian come up out of the hatch, the dog gave a short bark as if in greeting, trotted over to him, and sat at attention.

"Oy, Bosun, what do you think you are doing tracking sand and dirt across my clean deck?" he asked the dog who waited patiently for the treats he could obviously see in Killian's hand.

"_Bosun_?" Emma asked, incredulous. "You _named_ it?"

Breaking off a piece of carrot and tossing it to the dog who caught it with a snap of his jaw, Killian said, "Aye. Had to call him something. He's been helping me out around here the last couple of days."

Emma shook her head and crossed her arms. "Helping you. Doing _what_ exactly?"

"Moving ropes mostly. Fetching things now and again. Keeping me company. Think me crazy, darling, but this fine lad is an experienced boat dog." He tossed another chunk of carrot to Bosun who crunched it between bright white teeth.

"What does he do, bark out sea shanties or something? How do you know he doesn't belong to someone?"

Killian shook his head. "I don't. He seems to come and go as he pleases. He follows orders well, so I let him stay."

"Maybe he's like Smee and used to be part of your crew but someone cursed him," Emma suggested.

He could see her concern the dog brought with it some unknown danger or wasn't what he seemed to be. Her worry was not without cause, but there'd been nothing strange about the dog's behavior. Killian gave her his most reassuring smile.

"Well, if _that's_ the case, I'm _certainly_ not going to turn him away. But, Emma, I don't think anything is amiss. He's just a dog. Nothing more."

"I thought ships kept cats, not dogs," said Emma, obviously uneasy with the idea of something new in their midst.

Killian couldn't blame her continued skepticism, but he didn't want to live a life of distrust of even the most innocuous creature.

Killian gave Bosun a piece of jerky this time, running his hand over the beast's head, scratching the base of his neck as he chomped away on the dried meat.

"If I kept a cat, no doubt Mr. Smee would no longer be with us," Killian observed.

Emma chuckled, but still looked dubious.

"I've been on ships with dogs before," Killian explained. "They can be useful members of the crew, Swan. Especially retrievers, like this pup. You'd be surprised at how little sailors are interested in jumping in the water to bring back a freshly killed duck even with the incentive of having something different for dinner. Plus dogs are loyal and provide comfort. I'll grant you cats are excellent mousers, but it's a rare working cat who's interested in being a companion, too. They are usually busy… working. Or sleeping."

Bosun lay at Killian's feet gnawing on another, bigger, piece of jerky. Emma knelt down and ran her fingers over his shiny, dark fur.

"He doesn't have any tags. Maybe he is a stray. Are you keeping him?" Emma asked, amused.

"I'm not _not_ keeping him. If he wishes to stay, I won't discourage it."

Emma stood, picking up a full grocery bag and handing it to Killian, and keeping one for herself. "Then we might need to buy some dog food or treats to have on hand. I'm guessing your chimera jerky over there isn't going to last forever."

Narrowing his eyes, Killian tilted his head and smirked at Emma.

"I recognized the smell," she said with a shrug.

"You're right, love. This is actually the last of it." Killian paused before turning toward the steps again. "We might need to arrange someplace for him to bunk as well if he stays," he said.

Emma began her descent to the galley ahead of Killian. "Fine. But he's not sleeping in the Captain's quarters."

Killian was close behind, the other grocery bag swaying from his hook.

"And why's that, love?"

"Because it's _our_ room. And I'm not sharing it," she answered.

"Aye, so it is," Killian said, his voice full of emotion at the implication of her words. As he took the bag from Emma, never breaking his gaze, he raised his eyebrows and asked, "Perhaps Henry would like to share the crew's quarters with Bosun?"

Nodding as she thought about it, Emma said, "Perhaps."

Killian grinned and he was sure he would never stop. He wondered if Emma had been giving the idea of them sharing quarters as much consideration as he had before today, when she reached into one of the bags and pulled out a blue, rectangular box and waved it before him.

"Now, Captain, where should I put my Pop Tarts?"

Apparently she had.


End file.
